Testing the language of Middle Kingdom
Putting your foreign language skills to the test is always exciting. But what if the locals want to show off their English?
With more than 3,000 vowels and 5,000 years of almost continuous usage, Chinese is one of the oldest and most complex languages in the world.
So it was with brimming pride that I disembarked from the plane at Shanghai Pu Dong Airport safe in the knowledge that I was on the first rung of the ladder in speaking the language of the "Middle Kingdom".
But I never thought it would be a screechy-voiced metrosexual from Leytonstone that would scupper my plans of mastering smooth, free-flowing Mandarin.
"Do you have any water?" I asked a street hawker in my finest Chinese as I got off the train at Shanghai Railway Station on a hot and misty June afternoon.:
"You have very good Chinese," came the response. "Do you like David Beckham?"
"Errr, he's OK," I replied, thinking that I had got my tones that badly confused that the word "water" was somehow misinterpreted.
"Do you think England will recover from a poor World Cup?" came the second question, as the man in question pointed to three lions on my England football shirt.
I then responded as best I could, detailing England's perennial inability to get past the quarter finals in major competitions.
The Chinese word for "penalties" deserted me, but I think I got by.
I walked off still slightly parched from my lack of sustenance and cursing my choice of attire.
It was my own fault. Here I was attempting to show off my fledgling Mandarin skills in China, but as my visit was soon after the World Cup, the goalposts - so to speak - had somewhat shifted.
When you begin learning a foreign language, you are taught by practising certain situations, buying train tickets, asking for directions or ordering food.
How to describe the constant paralysis of England players in penalty shoot outs was not in the textbooks.
If I was made to feel small by the water-seller, it was nothing compared to feeling standing astride the giant Grand Hyatt Shanghai.
Located in the middle of Shanghai's Pu Dong business district, with its Art Deco lines, the Jin Mao building that houses the Guinness Book of Records' tallest hotel in the world is a work of art.
At 1,380ft, the structure towers over the more recognisable Oriental Pearl Tower and imposes itself on Shanghai's skyline as a symbol of the city's reach into post-modernism.
The chances of me being able to "keep it real" with my Chinese language skills in this unreal building were not looking good.
A hotel guest's first taste of the Grand Hyatt is an ear-popping lift ride up 54 floors to the reception.
"Hello!", comes the greeting as the lift doors open, a split second before I could open the conversation with the Chinese equivalent, "Ni Hao".
The hotel assistant points me to the reception counter where the English is as exceptional as you would expect in all Hyatts.:
My "Wo hen gaoxing jindao ni" (I am very pleased to meet you), was met with a smile, and an electronic roomkey.
The walk to the lift saw another half-dozen staff nod their heads with greetings in English.
But the sense of China came flooding back in the room, a beautifully decorated gold and brown comfort zone with glass windows covering two full sides.
There could have been no better view anywhere in China. The Huangpu River snaked through the central urban core; the business district on one side and the colonial buildings of the Bund on the other.
As the sun goes down, the neon lights go on and the views become more breathtaking.
It was a somewhat surreal experience to be putting your trainers on looking out onto nearly the whole area of a city of 16 million people.
I decided to eat at the Canton restaurant, forever in search of the real China to complement my search for vocal challenges in Mandarin.
The atmosphere and decor was as sublime as the room, and the food was as impressive.
Flavoursome duck skin, tender lobster meat and crispy chicken, all expertly ordered by yours truly (notwithstanding a few confused looks from the waiters, accompanied by worried hand gestures to the dishes as they appeared on the menu).
Nevertheless, if my linguistics weren't quite as oriental as I had hoped, the setting was as Chinese as you could possibly get.
My yearning for more adventure took me to the Cloud 9 cocktail bar, where I finished a brandy among tourists who had an obligatory cocktail in the world's highest bar.
I decided to get close to the Bund the following day, and took a taxi ride to one of the area's most fashionable restaurants.
The M on the Bund is a concept created in Hong Kong by Michelle Garnaut, but it has exported well to the Chinese mainland and has attracted such distinguished guests as Victoria Beckham.
Despite the fear that the spirit of her husband might follow me deeper into my Shanghainese experiment, I still made the trip to the restaurant after being told much about the spectacular views.
The balcony offers a fantastic glimpse of Shanghai from the other side of the Huangpu River to the Jin Mao Tower.
It gives a impression that you are eating fine continental food in the eye of a whirlwind. Its lofty height is far removed from streets crowded with millions of elbows jostling for position.
It was also very Western in its feel, so my Chinese was again wasted - but my taste-buds weren't complaining.
It was on a walk around the city that I finally got into some serious conversation with the locals who were selling all kinds of tourist trinkets.
"Rolex, sir?", a street seller ventured.
"Bu yao xie xie. Wo zhu zai Zhongguo" ("No, thank you. I live in China") I responded.
Not entirely truthful, but a good way of shedding oneself of persistent street sellers who can't take an English "no" for an answer.
It was always going to be something of a challenge to engage in Chinese conversation with people in a country which is emerging as one of the fastest learning nations on the planet in terms of the English language.
It seemed that I was one step behind most people who were more eager to show off their language skills.
And as my standard of Chinese is somewhere near the standard of English displayed by Basil Fawlty's hapless Spanish waiter Manuel, it was no surprise that I drew a lot of blanks on so many occasions.
I thought it polite to follow the old saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do". But I reverted back to English only a couple of days into my Shanghai trip. This change of tactic was to the benefit of many a Chinese football fan with fledgling English skills, as they learned from me the words for "penalties", "sending off" and, after a bit of research, "metatarsal".
